


a heavy burden

by intertwingular



Category: Promare (2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Howl's Moving Castle Fusion, Angst with a Happy Ending, Gen, M/M, burnish galo, i am trying to merge tech and magic and i dont think its working, this is a spoiler but people who know howl's moving castle will get where im going, this is all kura's fault
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-10
Updated: 2019-10-10
Packaged: 2020-12-07 19:00:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20980796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/intertwingular/pseuds/intertwingular
Summary: After being cursed, Galo Thymos finds shelter with the Burnish Wizard, the leader of the terrorist group, Mad Burnish, he-who-eats-hearts, Lio Fotia.It ends as expected: something catches on fire (a city), something is irrevocably changed (a kingdom), someone is lost forever (a friend).





	a heavy burden

**Author's Note:**

> guys this is ALL KURA'S FAULT. including "he eats the hearts of young himbos" which is the title of the google doc for this. the alternative title for this was going to be "in midst of rich darkness" but considering how ridiculous this entire au is seemed too pretentious. 
> 
> uhh. this shouldn't be too long? i don't think so, anyways. around 2-4 parts, tops. (watch as i come back in a week and that number is way off. just watch.) 
> 
> enjoy! no notes at the end. you can find me on twitter @ mochiicreams :)

Burnish Wizard Lio Fotia’s presence lingers over the kingdom of Promepolis like a shroud. It’s impossible to ignore him, after all — and even more than that, impossible to miss the Burnish Wizard’s moving castle. It hovers above the wastelands just outside of Promepolis City, spitting flames in colors unseen in the hearths of Promepolis’ people, and belching smoke and smog that spreads across the lands. 

Galo’s job isn’t the most glamorous, but it _is_ fulfilling. Someone’s got to put out the fires the Burnish Wizard and his minions set across Promepolis City, and Burning Rescue are always the first ones on the scene when a Burnish fire inevitably starts. There’s nothing he loves more than his job anyways — any old desk job would’ve been unsatisfying to his burning firefighter’s soul, after all. 

If there are people that were born to lead, like Gov Kray, or Chief Ignis, then there have to be people born to fight fires, right? 

It all starts (or maybe it ends, who really knows) on a sunny Saturday afternoon.

* * *

“We’ve got a report in Sector 5,” Lucia says, two seconds before the alert system kicks in. She pauses her video game, eyes darting towards the ceiling. What she sees, Galo has absolutely no idea, but her voice shocks them all into motion. 

Remi only moves when the alarm goes off, snorting in shock as his flinch knocks the three cups Aina and Galo have been trying to balance on his forehead clatter to the floor, shattering. 

“Aw,” Galo says, already running to the docking bay. “The cups.” 

“_What the hell?!_ Galo — Aina — _get back here_!” Remi shrieks. Galo can barely hear the sound of Remi’s skittering footsteps past the wailing of the alarms, and it peeters off into nothing as the crew of Burning Rescue 03 piles into the firetruck. 

Chief Ignis is already in the driver’s seat, his sunglasses perched firmly on his nose. “Lucia,” he rumbles. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m already on it, Chief,” Lucia says, swinging herself over to the command center. At her touch, the screens come to life, magic sparking through them as Lucia assumes full command of the Burning Rescue’s truck and tech. “Aina, get in position, Varys, you’re with me.” Her _duh_ is unspoken. 

Galo is already moving toward the Matoi’s chamber. 

Lucia swivels around, pinning him with a nasty little look. “Keep my baby in _one piece_, okay?” She demands. “I don’t care if you mess her up a bit, but you didn’t even leave me with any data last time!” She shakes a tiny fist in his direction. “I’ll give you the worst tech in Burning Rescue if you leave me data-less again, okay?” 

Galo winces. The worst tech in Burning Rescue is the old broom they’d attached one of Lucia’s magitech parts too. It’s murderous on its best days, and downright devious on its worst. Galo has nearly lost his toes to it more than once — and he’s not eager to test his luck. “Sorry, Lucia…” 

Lucia rolls her eyes. “Get into the Matoi already, Galo.” She turns around, already busying herself with whatever Remi and Varys are doing — if Galo cranes his head ever-so-slightly, he thinks he can see the Yuki doing damage control, while Varys’ Ares evacuates civilians. 

Galo’s hands twitch._ I gotta get out there_, he thinks, shaking pins and needles from his legs. _I wanna get out there!_ “Yo, we ready to launch?” He asks, sliding into the Matoi’s cockpit. Already, Lucia’s magitech is flickering on, the lights going from dark to bright blues, reds, and white. “I’m itching to get out there!” 

Lucia turns from where she’s hunched over her control panel, and waves — _get moving_, her flapping hand says. Galo’s never quite one to disobey an order from Lucia, so he hightails it out of the firetruck — and absolutely _does not_ bite his tongue on his way up to the fire, no matter what the Chief says. 

“_Galo, behind you!_” They’re evacuating civilians from the burning building when Lucia’s voice crackles over their link. “_We’ve got strong Burnish flares behind the fog!_” 

Galo, in the Matoi gear, swivels. Sure enough — and Lucia is rarely, if ever, wrong — he can see hints of a flickering, hungry flame licking at the rooftop, just barely hidden behind the dense wall of fog that Burning Rescue has yet to disperse. Galo frowns, still ushering people into the transportation capsule on back of Varys’ mecha. “I’m going in,” he declares, already maneuvering the Matoi into motion. 

“_Galo_ — ” Chief’s voice crackles over the link, and Galo stops, a Pavlovian response to the warning tone the Chief takes. For a moment, Galo thinks that Ignis might tell him to stop, to stay his hand and stay with the civilians. But the Chief only sighs, and Galo can hear his sunglasses clicking against the wedding ring the Chief still wears. “_Be careful,” the Chief says. “_I’m only giving you permission to handle this until the civilians are safe, okay?__” 

Galo grins, hands already moving across the Matoi’s glowing command board. “I heard you, Chief.” In his ear, Galo can hear Lucia telling Aina to scoop him up for launch. “I’ll put ‘em out with my burning firefighter’s soul!” 

Over link, Aina groans. “_Can you even hear yourself?_” She asks. 

Galo bobs his head. “Yeah, isn’t it cool? A man ought to be inspiring, Aina.” 

“_Inspiring really isn’t the word I’d use…_” 

Remi chimes in. “_Leave him be, Aina. Can’t teach stupid, after all._” 

“Hey — ” Aina chooses that moment to launch the Matoi into the air, propelling Galo closer and closer to the top of the building. Already, he can feel the heat of Burnish flares licking his face, the Matoi’s heat absorption nothing in the face of flames this powerful. 

Galo’s face shutters. There’s only one Burnish mage in Promepolis strong enough to make flames like these — the leader of Mad Burnish, the wizard in the moving castle, Lio Fotia. “Hey, Chief,” he says, gloved hand tight around the Matoi’s controls. “We’ve got Mad Burnish hiding up there.” 

“_Galo, do not engage. The Matoi isn’t_ — ” The Chief cuts out as Lucia takes over the link, rapidfire clicking filling the oppressive silence. 

“_Galo,_” she says, words muffled around the sucker in her mouth, “_I put upgrades into the Matoi yesterday — smoke dispersion, freezing bullets, you know the drill._” Galo can practically _hear_ her grin. “_Get me some good data, okay_?”

Galo can feel his own grin spreading across his face in turn. The button to activate the Matoi’s new upgrades pulses a vibrant, urgent red, and Galo can feel his heart rate picking up. “Loud and clear, Lucia!” He slams a hand against the button. The Matoi lurches for a moment, and then — the sound of sirens and the whirring of a fan as a familiar spear flies from the Matoi’s belly to his hand. 

The moment the smoke clears seems to stretch on for an eternity. The Burnish Wizard is a myth to most of Promepolis’ people — sure, his castle hangs over the capital city like a persistent raincloud, but most have only ever been affected by Mad Burnish attacks, never ones from the Wizard himself. 

If Galo hadn’t caught a glimpse of the Burnish Wizard once before — when he was still a trainee, running point as an EM — he would’ve written the man off as little more than a children’s tale too. But Galo can’t forget that night; can’t forget the way the Burnish Wizard’s fire _roared_, like a dragon from the Far East tales Galo can only vaguely remember a warm voice telling him. 

He’d only been a rookie back then. His weak magic had been pulsing over an injured woman’s leg, painstakingly knitting torn skin back together, when the Mad Burnish leader had flown overhead, armor dark and imposing. Though the man had been far above, Galo had sworn that their eyes locked for a second — but the moment had vanished as quickly as it came, blue-green-purple fire washing over the EMT station like a tidal wave, and Galo had thrown himself over the patients, desperately trying to protect whoever he could. 

Another scar to add to the collection. There was no use in pretending that Galo’s entire body wasn’t a patchwork quilt of burn scars anymore — all of Burning Rescue knows why Galo refuses to take off his arm guard, even when he wanders around the city topless. 

The smoke clears, and the Burnish Wizard lands, fire swirling around him until it forms a throne, and the Wizard lands heavily upon it, one dark, gauntlet-clad hand coming to prop his chin up. Beside him, the last of Mad Burnish — the Burnish Wizard’s left and right hands — loom, flame-born motorcycles revving between their legs, as real and warm as the motorcycle parked in the garage of Galo’s apartment. 

Galo’s eyes lock with the Wizard’s. The armor almost seems to _smirk_, for all that it can, wide facsimile of smug teeth and eyes staring back at Galo through the haze of fire and smoke. It’s as if the world is holding its breath, waiting for something, anything, to break this standstill. 

Of course, Galo strikes first. Lucia’s magitech is, as always, the best of the best, and the Matoi always looks so cool, too, design a callback to the Far East men who fought fires with nothing more than their bare hands. Galo swings the staff around and around, fan blades whirring as they work overtime to clear the smoke from Galo’s vision, cutting him a clear path to the Mad Burnish and their leader, lounging on a flickering throne. 

“_Well, there he goes,_” Aina mutters, hovering overhead. “_Lucia, you sure this was a good idea_?” 

“_He’ll be fiiine,_” Lucia drawls. “_It’s my tech._” 

She’s right — Lucia always is, after all. The Matoi’s freezing canons make pretty quick work of the Mad Burnish generals. Sure, it takes Galo some time to get used to the Matoi’s movement again — it’s quicker this time, despite the rounder appearance — but the Wizard’s right and left hands really don’t put up much of a fight. It’s not long before they’re both out of the Burnish armor, restrained on the ground. 

_They’re small_, Galo thinks, staring at their bound forms. One of them — the shorter of the two, with wild, fluffy hair — is bucking madly, swinging himself ‘round and ‘round in a circle, teeth gnashing wildly. The taller of the two is calmer, long, limp hair covering his face as he lays there, unmoving. 

“Meis! Gueira!” The Wizard finally, finally stands, voice echoing out as he _roars_, voice like the fire Galo can’t forget. 

“You see that?” Galo hollers, turning to meet the Wizard’s furious eyes dead-on. “Come down here and fight me yourself, Mad Burnish!” He jabs one of the Matoi’s clunky fingers in the Wizard’s direction. “You’re next.” 

The Wizard rises, Burnish flaring around him. “Get out of my way,” he intones, voice solemn and dark. “We don’t kill without reason, but if you don’t move, I will leave nothing but your ashes behind.” 

Galo grins, rushing to meet the Burnish Wizard. The clash, head to head, helmets banging against each other with a loud, hollow sound. “The name,” Galo says, gritting his teeth as he pushed through the unbearable rising heat, “is Galo Thymos! I’m the guy who’ll bring you down, got it?” 

“Lio Fotia,” the Wizard — _Lio_ — responds, cool and unfazed. “And we shall see.” From the flames, he pulls a sword that gleams in colors Galo can’t name, and swings it. They both jump back, arcing through the air, and Galo rolls with the force of it, Matoi tumbling off the side of a building. 

“_Galo!_” Aina shrieks. Even through the sound of chaos and the roar of Burnish flares, Galo can hear Aina’s plane as it dives, already speeding toward him. 

“It’s fine!” He bellows, already maneuvering his body, moving with the impact. The Matoi crashes into a building, ricochets off of a parapet, and Galo takes it in stride, yanking the controls around until the Matoi is soaring, back toward where the Wizard is stalking toward his bound companions. “Aina, focus on the civilians! Go help Varys and Remi.” 

Galo thinks he hears Aina growl — something subvocal that sets the hairs on the back of Galo’s neck on edge, standing at attention. It’s impossible to forget that Aina is very much Heris Ardebit’s sister when she demands their attention and respect: Heris is Archmage of Promepolis for a reason, and Aina, as her little sister, is no less powerful. 

“_Fine,_” Aina bites, and the whirr of blades fades away until the russet red rescue plane is little more than a dot against the smoke-filled sky. “_I’m keeping an eye on you, Galo._” 

“Wouldn’t think otherwise, Aina,” Galo reassures, already spinning his staff. The siren activates, and Galo hears murmurs as civilians in the area begin to move toward where the rest of Burning Rescue is chivvying those caught in the crossfire to safety. 

“You don’t know when to stop,” the Wizard remarks, blithely. “Are you so eager to die, Galo Thymos?” He strikes like a viper, movements elegantly brutal. Over and over again, the Burnish Wizard strikes, until Galo has no choice but to defend. Burnish flares burst to life all over the Matoi armor and piece by piece, it falls apart under the Wizard’s relentless onslaught. 

Galo falls from the Matoi as it bursts into flame one last time — it glows beautifully as it dies, white paint dyed the color of the Burnish flames: pink and green and blue.

“You’re naked.” The Wizard has taken damage too — part of his armor’s helmet has been destroyed, revealing pale blond hair and a face much younger than Galo expected. His eyes are cold, and _isn’t that odd_, Galo can’t help but think. Wouldn’t it make more sense for the Burnish Wizard to be burningly hot? It’s in the name, after all. 

Galo can’t help but smirk. Aina is coordinating a strike over his link, and already, Galo can feel the cold rush of air that always heralds the Yuki’s approach. “Hey, hey, hey,” he says, and the Wizard takes a step back, eyes already widening with realization. _Too late._ “We’re a rescue team, first and foremost — I didn’t get naked just for fun, you know.” 

The Wizard growls, flipping backwards faster than Galo’s eye can follow. A burst of technicolor flames scoops his minions up — _Gueira and Meis,_ Galo remembers — behind him, and the Wizard is gone, vanishing up, up, up, until Galo can’t see him beyond the cloud cover. 

“Shit,” he curses, sitting heavily. Atop the wide, flat roof, Aina docks the rescue plane, hopping out from the cockpit, looking mad enough to spit fire. 

“Galo Thymos, how often did your mother drop you on your damn head as a child?!” She shrieks. Around her, the air wavers, magic pulsing out from her in tandem with her fury. “Did you even _listen_ to a word the Chief said earlier?” Aina prods him in the chest. “Did you?” 

Galo laughs, sheepishly. “Maybe not,” he admits, scratching the back of his head. “Civilians okay?” 

Remi disembarks from the Yuki, tossing his pale hair out from his eyes. “Thanks to you, yes.” There’s a shard of ice hanging off from his hair — if Galo squints, he can see how Remi’s lips are tinted blue. 

“Here.” Galo reaches into the Matoi’s intact inner chamber, pulling out his standard-issue Burning Rescue jacket. He tosses it at Remi, who catches it, raising a thin eyebrow at the odd scorch marks that pepper the back of the coat. Still, Remi shrugs it on, rubbing his arms over the thick, puffy fabric. “Did we run out of freezing bullets?” 

Over the link, Lucia hums an affirmative. “_I’ll have to make you some heating pads for the Yuki, Remi,_” she mutters, not really speaking to them. A low rumble in the background tells them that Varys is already back with her, probably helping Lucia sort through the data collected from the Matoi and today’s long battle. “_Chief wants to debrief in an hour, by the way._” 

Aina groans. When Galo looks over, she’s splayed out on the rooftop, one arm thrown over her face. “I don’t want to _moove,_” she complains. “Everything hurts...Galo, did you really have to toss the Burnish Wizard onto my plane?” 

“Sorry, Aina,” Galo says, patting her bare stomach in commiseration. His body aches everywhere too, though half that ache might be coming from shame — _the Wizard got away,_ Galo thinks. _I couldn’t stop him._

Remi sighs, pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. “Pizza after debrief?” He suggests, already picking his way back to the Yuki’s cockpit. 

Galo punches the air, rocketing to his feet. Aina yelps as he narrowly avoids stepping on her hair, rolling to the side and spluttering. “Yes! Let’s go, let’s go!” 

Aina groans again. “We _better_ not be splitting the bill again, Galo, I swear…”

* * *

When Galo comes home, the sun has long since set, rays having turned the sky russet and gold as it sank below the horizon. His apartment is dark, only lit with the barest slivers of light by providence and the streetlamps that line Promepolis’ wide streets. The moon is hidden behind the cloud cover that the Mad Burnish vanished behind hours before, and Galo flicks on the light before he can trip over the layer of shoes his doormat is covered in. 

His cat is nowhere to be seen — Natsu is probably somewhere out on the streets again, and Galo knows he’ll probably end up stepping on another dead bird in the morning when he goes to shower. 

“Really need to lock the bathroom window,” Galo murmurs to himself. He stretches, yawning. _Full stomach really makes you tired…_

There’s a rustling from his tiny living room. Galo stops scratching his stomach and turns. “Natsu…?” He asks, peering around the wall. “You home, buddy?” 

It’s not Natsu in his living room — unless his tiny, 10 pound cat has suddenly turned into a hulking, ominous, black-clad figure. The figure turns, features cast into shadow, even with the lights in Galo’s living room. _I can’t see their face,_ Galo thinks, thoughts beginning to turn a touch hysterical. _Magic?_  
“Galo Thymos,” a voice rumbles. It sounds familiar — but for some reason, Galo can’t place it. “I ought to have done this a long time ago.” 

Galo inches backward, hand reaching for his phone. A spark of magic — even Galo’s own weak-ass magic — will bring the emergency signal to life, and all of Galo’s contacts (which, really, is just Burning Rescue) will get an alert. 

“I don’t think so,” the voice says, and a spark of magic sends Galo flying into the wall before he can even think to dodge. There’s the awful, acrid scent of burning flesh, and someone screaming, tinny and distant in Galo’s ears. 

It takes him a moment to realize that both are coming from him. It wasn’t a spark of magic that had sent Galo flying into the wall, it had been a literal spark, Burnish flames bursting into being and throwing Galo into his wall, hard enough to shake dust free from the ceiling, and make his upstairs neighbor bang angrily on the floor. 

Those same flames — _not the Wizard’s_, Galo thinks. _The color...it’s different_ — pluck Galo’s phone from where it skittered across the floor, and crush it deftly, shards and bits of the phone flying across his apartment. 

“Why I’ve kept you alive for so long,” the voice continues, lumbering closer, “I’ll never know. You’ve failed me for the last time, Galo...you’re of no use to me...not anymore.” The figure’s breath is hot and heavy on Galo’s face, and faintly, Galo can smell something that should be familiar too, but his mind is whirring too fast and everything aches and burns and hurts. 

There’s the scent of fire again, and before Galo can even recoil, the figure sets him aflame. The world passes by in snapshots — in between the moments where Galo blacks out from the unbearable pain of fire, licking through his shirt first, then his arm guard, then the skin on his face-chest-arms-legs-hands. Nothing is left untouched, and not a part of Galo is left unburnt. 

Not a part of him is saved. Through the night, Galo burns and burns and burns, the pain worse than when he’d lost his entire family to fire and flame, when the life he can’t remember, sans a warm voice and stories that Galo carries deep in his chest, went up with it. It’s a small mercy that his voice goes first, carried away with the smoke, turned to ash and crumbling slowly to dust. His neighbors can’t hear him scream. 

_Save me,_ Galo thinks, as the world turns to fire. _Save me — anyone, Gov, Chief, Aina, Remi — Mom — ! Save me!_

The world is almost gone when Galo hears a voice, so soft and sweet that it can’t be anything more than a wishful dream, a final hallucination before Galo slips away at last. 

_Okay,_ it murmurs, voice tinkling, _burn for_ us, _then._

Galo Thymos _**burns.**_

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Memories](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21149291) by [Lucarn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lucarn/pseuds/Lucarn)


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